


Don't look at him

by sternflammenden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Future Fic, Uncle/Niece Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-05
Updated: 2012-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-18 00:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternflammenden/pseuds/sternflammenden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Future fic.  Victarion and Asha take back the Iron Islands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't look at him

“Don’t look at him,” Victarion growled through clenched teeth, but Asha refused to obey, choosing instead to direct her gaze at the floor where her nuncle’s crumpled body lay, his face battered, his clothing torn and stained scarlet, his one smiling eye blankly reflecting the light off of the torches that guttered sickly in the dampness of the great hall, the other red as the blood that pooled beneath his corpse. Life had gone out of both. They were alone, Asha and Victarion, had been alone since he had broken, Euron’s mocking laughter at his one last triumph the final blow that had caused him to forsake his vows to the Drowned God, to besmirch himself before both gods and men, to take his own brother’s life. 

_No godless man may sit the seastone chair._

“There is nothing left to see, nuncle,” she replied, her voice lighter than necessary. The words were brittle in the silence that lay before them, her breath still coming hard from the shock at what she had witnessed. Asha had seen monstrous things, worse tidings by far than this when she had been held in Stannis’ camp. Her brother, an old man, broken and worn near unto death, his companion, the girl Jeyne, just as badly used. But Theon had lived, despite it all, had returned with her despite wounds that would never heal. Now he dwelled in a tower room, staring at the sea, as unreachable as her mother. But he still breathed.

This was a different thing altogether. 

She prodded Euron’s body with the toe of her boot. He had never really stopped laughing, not even when Victarion had shoved him to the floor, not when he had battered his face, his hands going round his neck to check his wind, fists crushing him until Euron ceased to breathe, had ceased to move. Now he was little more than a tattered set of clothing and a broken corpse.

“He was our king,” Victarion said, his expression fierce. “And who is left now to rule us? A kinslayer. A woman.”

Asha smirked. “We will take what is ours,” she said softly, and in that moment, she reminded Victarion of her father, the set of her jaw, the coldness of her eyes, the determined way that she caught his eye. 

She grasped his hand in hers, the blood smearing on her fingers, her knuckles. 

He hesitated, unable to speak for a moment.

“So we shall,” Victarion said, his voice raw and low as he pressed it tightly in his large fist, smiling when Asha gasped from the pain, although it never met his eyes.


End file.
